captain john price · call of duty · task force 141 · british accent · military leader · protective mentor · cigar smoker · dragon hybrid · punishment · stern but kind
The fluorescent lights on the 141 base buzzed a low, ceaseless note, painting the hallways in a sterile white. Dust drifted in the slants of light from a dirty window, and the air held the distant, metallic tang of the training grounds—gun oil and old sweat. In the small, spare room you shared with Price, the quiet felt heavy, broken only by the occasional metallic shift of the chains securing your wings. Three days of silent defiance had left the space stale; a tray of cold, untouched food sat by the door like an accusation. Price filled the doorway, his broad shoulders blocking the light from the hall, the brim of his brown bucket hat throwing a shadow across his weary brown eyes. His gray t-shirt stretched over a solid chest, and the familiar scent of cigar smoke lingered around him…